


The Fossils I Find

by riverluckyu



Category: True Blood (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Morning Kisses, Nice stuff, i guess actually night kisses?, just kinda musing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:48:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25179466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverluckyu/pseuds/riverluckyu
Summary: Eric and Godric greet the night in a cute little way!
Relationships: Godric/Eric Northman
Kudos: 20





	The Fossils I Find

**Author's Note:**

> I've never done this before lol and i dont really consider myself much of a writer? I'm not used to this form either? hmm i had fun writing this tho! I was just sorta doing a little musing about their relationship and maybe what the beginning of nighttime looks like for them ya know?

Mid 1000’s, early spring

Eric turned over, restless, waking. He lay in the makeshift bed of scavenged furs tucked deep in the belly of a damp, pitchblack cave somewhere in the Lithuan wilderness, but not far off from a decently sized village. He groaned as he gained consciousness, sensitive still to the moon rising, rousing him from his slumber. He sat up and blinked into wakefulness, looking around aimlessly at jet dark rock as his sharp eyes adjusted. He turned at his waist to gaze at the still sleeping boy beside him, the boy so impossibly motionless, like a doll a caring child had tucked into bed. Eric brushed the hair out of his turned away face, so gently, barely touching the cool, soft skin, while looking down at him with a melted expression. How Eric loved the sliver of dusk he was sometimes graciously allotted by some amatory, smiling god to watch Godric sleep. He continued to stroke Godric’s dark, messy hair remarking to himself, as he often did in these moments, how peaceful the boy seemed. Contrasting starkly against the feral forest god he unusually appeared to be. Animalistic, cold, divisive. Grey eyes betraying his age, twisting the perception of his body through the actions of the night, unwrapping his ancient prowess. Of course, Eric grew to enjoy that side of Godric too, revere it even. But now, in moments like this, his maker simply looked his age, tranquil.

He leaned down to kiss the boy’s temple, stabilizing himself with a palm to the furs over Godric’s sleeping form. Eric whispering against his skin, “Godric…” so soft and so low it would be imperceptible to the human ear. He laid another kiss to Godric’s face followed by another whisper of his beloved’s name, letting the letters drip off of his lips like honey and slip unto the impossibly unmarred porcelain below him, anointing his maker into the night.   
Godric’s lips curved into a content, easy smile. He let out a quiet, satisfactory groan, turned onto his back, and slowly opened his eyes to gaze upon his child above him. “Good evening, my little imp.” Eric said with a naughty smile, lowering himself back down to kiss Godric gently upon his even, full lips. Godric giggled into the kiss at his progeny’s silly nickname and wrapped his arms around Eric’s neck. 

Eric was the only one allowed such a brazen informality as a teasing nickname, let alone to be so playful. Godric, steeped in power sensed by others of their kind even miles off, not one of them would even attempt something so disrespectful, so patronizing. And Godric was glad of it. He clawed, fang and nail, for over a thousand years. He earned that respect which was thrown upon his head- and he would let no-one forget it. But in his brutal, albeit, inadvertent, ascension among the sparse and spread society of his kind, he had cemented his loss of youth. Driving the final nail in the coffin, as it were, himself. Gone before he knew it, was adolescence, and all pleasures and comforts afforded it. Ripped away from him in mortal life by forces beyond his control, and at the time, his conception, and sent off further down the river Styx by his own means of survival. 

Godric deepened their kiss, often being the one to do so, Eric always allotting Godric space for charge as to maintain the maximum comfort for his beloved. Pushing harder his lips to his lover’s opening his mouth to invite Eric inside. Eric smirked pressing into Godric’s lured invitation, tongue meeting willing tongue. Eric scooped his free arm behind Godric’s serpent adorned back, separating the boy from the ground, turning over onto his own back, swinging Godric around allowing for him to situate himself straddled atop Eric’s hips. Eric had learned through experience, Godric did not like to feel trapped beneath anyone. Godric laughed, eyes closed, giddy with the carefree sensation of being swung, his hands to Eric’s broad chest, now snaking up to encircle his head while weaving his nimble fingers through Eric’s ash blond hair. Leaning over, stretched out against the length of his progeny’s torso to ravenously keep devouring such sweet kisses. Eric gripped one large hand to Godric’s deceptively soft, strong thigh, and the other he held flat against the serpent. Eric figured there was no better way to start the night. 

Eric was different from the rest, Godric saw it from the moment he witnessed Eric on the battlefield. A brutal viking by virtue of birth, yes, but he fought with tact and honor Godric had never seen in all his years. Eric brought intimacy Godric had never known and did not anticipate. He adjusted to it with a secret greed, but he had to allot Eric time to adjust to his new life as a companion of death and let his child come to terms with his own feelings on every brand new sensation. Though, through their ironclad bloodbond, every desire was felt by the other. Eric, physically older, with a radically different mortal background than Godric coupled with a surprising proclivity for feelings and displays of humanity which cracked through the amber encasing the ancient vampire. Eric would so beguilingly trace the decorative lines of this fossil boy unlocking a renaissance of youth and life that Godric, in resignation, previously had thought impossible of himself. 

Godric sat back, slowly pulling himself away from heated kisses, dragging his hands down Eric’s muscled abdomen. Eric watched his marker with enjoyment, he really could never take his eyes off the boy, Godric’s slim but toned form moving like finely embellished silk. Godric sitting up now, stare dripping with adoration, tucks his hair behind one ear. Eric squeezed Godric’s thighs and bit his lip with his inadvertently extended fangs before saying, “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” finishing his rhetorical question with a low growl. Godric gasped and straightened under the pleasant pressure of Eric's big, calloused hands. The boy laughed, “I don’t believe you ever have? Please, my dear child, enlighten me?” Godric smirks and plays coy, how he loves to play soft, to be treated soft, soft, soft. He would never admit it, but, Gods, he loves to be doted on, fawned over by Eric, Eric, Eric. The blond sits up fast and wraps his arms around his maker who gasps and giggles as Eric pulls him into his chest kissing his neck, nibbling at his ear, kissing his head, smothering him. “Gods, how I spoil you.” Eric exhales in a husky voice against Godric’s messy, dark mop. 

Eric could treat Godric as he so desperately wished to be treated, a desire never voiced, never acted on, kept tucked behind his stilled heart, hidden from all who’d came to pass. But Eric shared his very blood, Eric who flies in the face of all law of their kind, who sees Godric, peers into his antediluvian body, wanting nothing more than to give Godric what he wants most. Eric treats him as a saint, as an equal, as a boy, and as his beloved. His father, brother, son, and lover. 

Godric wriggles his arms free to wrap them around Eric’s neck, “I’m hungry…” he says almost like a whine into the crock of Eric’s neck. The boy drags his fangs along the contour of his child’s strong sternocleidomastoid, he does not intend to draw blood, only to tease. The time for the intimate and sensuous act of mutual bloodletting would undoubtedly be carried out later into the night, the way one brings out the best wine after the feast. Eric’s precious maker is so sweetly demanding the hunt begin. “I would have you right here right now, but what my nymph wants, he gets…” Eric muses, chastely kissing the little one in his arms before they both rise to dawn human visage at impossible speed- aided by the impatience to get on with the thrills of the midnight curtain-up.


End file.
